


Dead Eyed

by Sivvus



Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Cage, Dancing, Death, Extended Scene, Eyes, F/M, Fiend - Freeform, Forgiveness, Guilt, Immortality, Obsession, Passion, Poison, Prison, Seeing, Spy - Freeform, Time - Freeform, Trapped, ending, extended ending, friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-16
Updated: 2015-09-16
Packaged: 2018-04-21 03:30:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4813316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sivvus/pseuds/Sivvus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Venturing into the Goblin Kingdom has a far higher price than mortals know. Even when it's all over, Jareth can't quite forgive himself. Short fic. J/S</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Eyed

Jareth watched Sarah climb the stairs of her home. Fury and adoration twisted his stomach into knots.

She did not gloat over her victory, and in a way Jareth hated her for it. If she had gloried over her battle, then of course she would have deserved some revenge. If she had made some scornful remark over how easy it had been to banish her foe then he could have despised her. He had expected her to be proud and arrogant, because her petulant nature had told him that she would end up that way. But she climbed the stairs with light, hesitant steps. She wished her brother good night with pure forgiveness in her breathy voice, and there was no pride left in her.

There was nothing there he could hate. There was nothing there he could punish. There was nothing there, and so Jareth could not tear his eyes away from the crystal world. Because if there was nothing to punish, then it meant that Sarah did not deserve her fate.

But he had chosen it for her. He had crafted it, cast it and cursed her for all time.

Jareth sneered a little at the image in the crystal, seeing how her friends gathered around her. They knew the truth, of course. Sooner or later they would have to tell her. They loved her too much to hide it from her. That the house was the beginning and end of her world. That her father's voice had no mortal source. That her brother would never grow any older. Tonight, they would be happy for her. Tomorrow, perhaps, or the day after, or perhaps even...

Hoggle would tell her. He would blame himself. It was he, after all, who had given her that poisoned peach. How would he confess? He had not killed her, not quite.

The poison had not taken her life but her mortality. Jareth had held her in his arms and danced with her until ever drop of it was gone. She had looked up at him, and he had seen death in her beautiful dark eyes. Death, and confusion, and finally her eyes had closed against the giddy glitter of the goblin world, and she grew cold, and for a second he held her so closely he could feel the last struggling flutters of her fading heart against his chest. Then, with a cry, her eyes had torn open and she dragged herself away.

She had fled, but he might have told her there was no need. For those few moments he had no desire to pursue her. He no longer wanted her.

Perhaps, perhaps... staring at her image in the crystal, Jareth wondered if he could recapture that feeling. The moment of cold disgust at having touched such a cold, dead thing. The goblin kingdom was free from it, and his skin crawled at the clammy mortal habit. How vile, to rot away! He could not understand why on earth they insisted on doing it. Fickle animals, whining at their decaying flesh and yet still stubbornly marching towards their graves.

He had taken that away from Sarah, at least. It was a gift - not that he had given her eternal life like one of the petty djinn. Oh no, he had simply... disillusioned her. He had been very patient, really, lifting the veil from her eyes. Life was not death, it was habit. Time was not twelve or thirteen, it was as fickle as she was. It could be reordered and commanded, and it could race or be still like any other impassioned heartbeat.

When he had her in his grasp his blood thrummed in every vein, hot and pulsing, and a thousand mortal years had screamed through her ignorant veins.

She realised, slowly, and he saw death for a second time in her dark eyes. Not her own, this time. But he could see her father dying, and then her stepmother, as she understood that so many years had passed that they were nothing but fetid dust. She cried for them. Why? She had said she hated them, but she cried. She said she hated her brother, too, but she cared for his unchanging shell with a passion Jareth envied.

Ludo, the great oaf, visited her most often. Hoggle was a close second, bringing her books and stories, but his lingering guilt made him leave where Ludo could simply doze off, too stupid to worry about the crystal cage. Sarah clung to him at first, and then eventually took his comforting silence for granted. They slept on the floor, curled around each other like rats.

Her endless days took on a pattern. It was tedious to watch. It must have been hell to live it. And Jareth watched, because this time he could not find a single thing that convinced him that she deserved it.

Not a single thing.

And one morning, she looked into the mirror as she combed out hair that would never split or grow an inch longer, and her eyes no longer held death.

Her eyes held his.


End file.
